Never In Our Favour- The 225th Games
by RueThisDay
Summary: So some children in past games have had injuries... But what about 24 of them in one Games? Join 24 new tributes as they battle against their own bodies! And a rather excitable Games fan as she battles with the rules... Who will come out top? I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS! (Sadly, 'cause they're all awesome)
1. Meet Mindora

**A/N: OK here's a bit of backstory: the revolution never happened, because Katniss never volunteered for Prim, who was never reaped. That year, the girl from 12 won, and then went, with Haymitch, into the ****75th games.**

**And, now… The Capitol is still in charge; it's the 225****th**** games!**

* * *

Mindora Gasparine was an excitable woman, becoming almost hysterical at the slightest thing.

These Hunger Games, of course, were sending her over the limit.

She loved the games, and often stayed up watching the best bits when she could. As a child, she would watch avidly, even helping her older brother to bet.

But there isn't much else to do when you have no legs from the knees down.

Mindora had been born with the disability, using a high-tech wheelchair to get around in as a child, but then had prosthetic limbs from the age of twelve. At 18, she now knew what she was doing with them, and could even do some gymnastics moves.

She was sitting on a bench a month before the reapings, reading 'Games Gossip,' her favourite magazine, specifically an article on the effects that this Quell's twist was having on the districts.

Mindora was particularly excited about the twist, just the thought of it almost making her squeal in delight. The president had announced it last week, but the original thrill had still not worn off for her.

It went as follows: both tributes from each district must have an injury or disability of fairly high degree to be reaped or allowed to volunteer.

According to 'Games Gossip,' some citizens of District one, two and four were even breaking their own limbs in order to be allowed to volunteer.

However, in the outlying districts, there had been a sudden rocket of demand for doctors and, especially in District 11 (Where, according to 'Games Gossip,' there was the highest injury rate), the suicide figures had also shot up.

Oh, Mindora would give anything to be somehow more involved in these games. She had dreams of being a tribute; she could be reaped, if she was from one of the districts.

But no, she was destined to watch, confined to the plush cushions of her velvet sofa. How unfair! The injured children of the districts got the chance to be reaped, to go and fight to the death in a terrifying arena, while she could only sit there in the lap of luxury with her avoxes and expensive foods and beautiful furniture and fine clothes. She would give up her set of (Very expensive) hot-pink contacts to switch places with those district kids.

Suddenly, a young man with jet-black hair interrupted her thoughts. His deep, dark eyes looked at the floor guiltily.

Mindora spotted a couple of other men around his age standing behind him, laughing and yelling for him to "get on with it."

"Um, so, are you a fan of the Games then?" he said eventually.

"Yes!" She replied, instantly.

"Well, um-"

He was cut off by one from the group behind him with short green hair, who stepped forward and blurted "Just ask her if she wants to come to the centre, and hurry up!" before retreating, giggling.

"Of course" Mindora cried, excitedly, not waiting for him to ask; she never did like to wait. "Oh, can I come, please?!"

"Oh go on, Genisius!" cried another boy from behind the black haired one "Let her come!"

"Ok," Genisius – the back-haired one – replied "but Oron will not be happy with me!"

"Awesome!" Mindora exclaimed "When do I start?"

"The parade!" called the green-haired one from before.

And then the young men all ran off, laughing and chatting like naughty schoolboys.

But Mindora didn't notice; she was too busy sending a message to her personal stylist for a fabulous new dress and dreaming of the games.

She was going behind the scenes!

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to Never In Our Favour! This is my second attempt, sorry...**

**All new from chapter 4 onwards.**

**Enjoy!**


	2. Meet the Tributes Part 1

**Staff Room, General Hospital, D1**

**18 yrs before 225****th**** Games**

Dr. Centella Yates was having a quick coffee when a call came through.

"Caesarean needed in ward 6! Dr. Yates, come quickly!"

She was up and there within the minute. Instruments for the operation were pressed into her hands.

Half an hour later, the wound is closed and the mother awake.

Her eyes fill with joy as she sees the new baby. Her mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out.

Speechless with joy, Dr. Yates presumes, going back to her coffee (Which is now cold, so she makes a new one).

An hour later, she comes back in the check that all is going well. The mother is gently cradling the newborn child in her arms.

"Can I give you a check over?" Yates asks, trying not to interrupt too much "Just basic procedure, no need to be worried."

The mother says nothing.

"How are you feeling?"

Still silence.

"Excuse me? Can you hear me? I need to check the baby,"

She hands over the child without a word, leaving Dr. Yates to start the tests. Everything about the child is perfect… except her mouth: the child has no tongue.

Yates' first reaction is to check again; the night shift is hard work, and fatigue can lead to stupid mistakes.

But her first tests were right. The child has no tongue.

Within seconds, another doctor is there, also examining the child. Another joins them.

Then another, then another.

Soon, the ward is full of nurses and doctors, all checking the mother and her baby daughter.

Neither of them have tongues.

No-one has ever seen anything like it before, and hope not to see it again.

After that shock, Centella Yates has to lie down.

Flame Widows certainly made an entrance.

**Community Hospital, D6**

**17 yrs before 225****th**** Games**

When Quinn Alegri was born, she was very sickly. The nurse even called Body Disposal to the ward just after she was born.

But she struggled through and, after two weeks, was allowed home, which her mother was pleased about; she was missing her anti-depressants. She didn't think that her addiction might have made her daughter sick, or even that, by the age of three, Quinn might also be addicted, but that was what happened.

As life went on, Quinn became more and more addicted, despite the best efforts of her friends. After one of their sessions with them, it she would always say that she would stop, but it was sometimes merely a matter of minutes before she was high again.

They say that a disability is anything that affects the way you live your life. For Quinn, her addiction WAS her life.

So, when the surveyors came round asking of she was disabled or injured, she said yes.

But heck did she regret it.

**The Medical Room, Oakland Primary School, D7**

**7 yrs before 225****th**** Games**

I first met Shayli when she was ten. We were at school, and I had just been sick and she had cut her finger. Normally, a small cut like hers wouldn't need that much attention, but it was still bleeding, even after ten minutes.

And that was what I first noticed: she had been there for ten minutes with a tiny cut, and she had used five plasters.

Because her cut wouldn't stop bleeding.

I actually met her when they called me over to help out – there aren't many teachers at our school.

Well, I sat there for another half an hour, but did it stop bleeding? Not at all.

As I helped, we talked. I told her I was called Mackenzie and she said she was called Shayli. We were the same age and had similar interests: reading, running and animals.

And then she told me why the cut was so major: she had a disease called haemophilia which she had inherited from her grandmother.

Eventually, someone came in with some superglue and we both went back to class.

From then on, we were good friends, and stayed like that until high school, growing closer every year. I watch her back, keep her away from sharp objects, and she teaches me about surviving in the wild.

We're now best friends.

But I can't protect her if I'm not with her.

'**The Slums', D5**

**5 yrs**** before 225****th**** Games**

I was twelve when he first came. The man in white would stand at the end of my bed, watching me. His face was never visible from behind the white helmet and black visor, and he never did anything, just stood there and waited, the fingers on his left hand twitching by his waist.

Sometimes it's him, sometimes it's mutts, sometimes it's one of the machines from the factories.

But it's always terrifying.

Sometimes it seems like a dream, like I'm going to wake up any second – though I never do – and sometimes it's real, it's there.

But it's always terrifying.

And recently, they've been getting worse. The man appears more often, the mutts are bigger, faster, and the machines are stronger, hungrier for my blood.

The doctors call it schizophrenia; I call it hell.

**D10**

**5 yrs**** before 225****th**** Games**

I've always known I was fat, but I first started to do something about it when I was 12. It started with a diet, but soon I just found that I became full very quickly.

But I was still fat.

I would tell my mother, ask her for advice, but all she would say was 'you're not fat, Alice. Stop being silly,' this didn't help.

When I was 16 – four years after I started – my mother took me to the local doctor. He wasn't much – District 10's speciality is farmers, not doctors – but he said I might have anorexia.

I simply said that he was speaking nonsense: people with anorexia are thin, not fat like me. My mother told me that I was the one speaking nonsense and that I'm getting thin as a stick.

After that, I didn't mention it again.

But I'm still fat.

**The Woods, D12**

**2 yrs before 225****th**** Games**

It was a quiet, sunny day in the woods. Ivy Green, aged 14, feels like she is the only person in Panem bar the birds as she sits in a tree, waiting for something to come along below.

Only the birds watch as she leans forwards, aiming the arrow at a rabbit that has just wandered into range. She shuffles forwards, trying to get a better shot.

The birds fall silent as the branch snaps and she falls, screaming. The rabbit flees instantly.

Two hours later, Ivy wakes up. All she can feel is pain, all over her body, but mainly in her hip. Carefully, she sits up, wincing as she puts pressure on her hip bone.

But then she spots her bow.

It has snapped right in half, straight down the centre. For a second, Ivy forgets her hip and tries to walk over to the bow.

But then the pain becomes unbearable. Her upper left leg is alight with icy fire, both piercingly cold and scorching hot at the same time.

That's when she knows it's broken.

In District 12, a broken bone is almost unfixable. Ivy may never be able to run again.

A year later, she's recovering. Some things are still awkward, and she still hates the mistake in the first place, but it's bearable. At least she can still hunt; she got lucky.

Or did she?

**The Training Yard, D1**

**1 month before 225****th**** Games**

"Are you from one or three? Come on, just do it!"

They've been trying to convince me all day. In the centre, at school, at lunch, after school… All I've heard is them going on about it, and it's driving me nuts!

"Why not? Quells are the best to compete in. Besides, someone'll get there before you, I'm sure."

"But then you can still say you've volunteered for the games. You can get a higher status for determination.

He's right. It would get me a higher status within the academy. The thing is, I don't think it's really worth the trouble…

But it would help my social status…

Make me more popular…

"Come on, mate! Think of all the girls swooning over you when you show them."

That last statement decides me. I think of Cali, how she would react to this.

And I don't have to volunteer fast enough to go in…

"Ok," I say "Ok, I'll do it."

"Awesome. Here's the hammer."

I take the hammer, raise it above my head and hurl it down onto my left arm.

The crack is audible and the pain is unbearable, almost making me cry out.

But I'm a career.

Careers don't cry.

I think of Cali's eyes – so deep and brown – and how they will light up when she sees this, how she will think I'm amazing and never want to leave my side.

Little do I know that reality is very different.

**Training Centre, D2**

**2 weeks before 225****th**** Games**

As District 2's head trainer, I've seen a few… interesting students. Bianca Mave is one of them.

She is my physically strongest female trainee, and she can run pretty fast too.

But she has ne downfall: she follows the popular crowd down to the last detail.

Including breaking her own arm with an axe, even when I told her not to. Not that I can stop her.

There were a group of students that stayed behind one night, two weeks before the reaping. They wanted to borrow a couple of axes, taking them out to the courtyard with them. I was curious to know what they were doing that they needed to make so much noise about, so I followed quietly and watched.

Bianca was in the middle of the group, holding the axe up in her left hand, about to bring it down.

"Wait!" called another boy, Ajax. He's the best of my students who plan to volunteer this year, and I want him to be the one who gets there first. I know he will do well.

Anyway, he basically told Bianca that she should break her left arm, not her right. Being Bianca, she did.

Which puzzled me; Bianca is left-handed. Why would she break her fighting arm?

However, she did not notice, just grinned at the rest of the group and stepped back as Ajax stepped into the centre.

He refuses the offer of an axe, choosing instead to do it by hand.

Ajax is my strongest pupil, aged 18. He's been with me since he was 6, and he's used every second well. This year's victor will be him, I'm sure.

With a twist of his fingers, he snaps his own arm. I'm amazed, and so is the rest of the group. The few boys who were up next decide against volunteering. They are all 17, so can try again next year. Plus, Ajax is bound t win. He broke his arm with his bare hands for goodness' sake!

He winks at Bianca (who glares), then saunters off with a swing in his step.

The rest of the group follows in awe.

* * *

**A/N: There they are, the first batch of tributes. Second half coming soon.**

**Tell me which tribute you like best so far, which one you think will win, etc. Your opinion is always valued! ;)**


	3. Meet the Tributes Part 2

**A & E, Community Hospital, D8**

**17yrs before 225****th**** Games**

That year, there was a Rubella outbreak, or so they tell me. My mother was the only pregnant woman to get it. Apparently she staggered into the A & E covered in spots, gasping that she was in labour.

Within minutes, I was born.

Fish have eyes that are always open, but rely on their senses of smell, hearing and taste to 'see' what is around them.

I was born with my eyes open.

Not that it makes a difference; I still couldn't see anything.

Like a fish, I rely on my ears; I was born totally blind.

Sometimes, I like to pretend I'm a fish. I swim for hours on end, trying to get myself to believe that I'm a fish, that being blind is normal. I almost do sometimes.

But never quite properly.

The sounds of our world are too real for that.

**The Hyacinth Family Workshop, D3**

**14yrs before 225****th**** Games**

I grin down at Splinter and her brown eyes grin back. She's not really called Splinter – her real name is Emeara – but that's what I call her.

Beside her lies a big, heavy metal thing: her new leg.

She lost her old one in this very room, playing on the floor while our dad fixed something. Suddenly, it exploded, sending dirty bits of metal flying everywhere.

Splinter was lucky: she only got one in her leg, but the wound became infected and it had to be cut off. Only now, one year later, is she back from hospital.

For now, she's renting a wheelchair from the hospital, but I'm building her this leg so she can walk properly. At the moment, she's only four, but I've fitted all sorts of useful stuff so she can do lots when she's older, like a waterproof coating do she can swim with it.

She's my splinter; my sister. I'm not letting her get left behind.

**D5**

**13.5 yrs before 225****th**** Games**

A storm rages outside. Lightning licks the roofs of surrounding buildings with its forked tongue.

Upstairs, Nickolas is asleep, safe in the knowledge that we will be fine.

A fire crackles in the hearth. It's almost tame. Oh, how normal it is.

Worn old fingers repeat the same old patterns, transforming wool from a ball into a jumper. The familiarity of the stitches calms me slightly, makes me forget the storm, lets me sit in peace. My eyelids droop and I sleep.

_Gold eyes. The gold eyes I thought I would never see again… Falling. Falling into a fiery pit of terror and longing. Screams fill the air, the heat surrounds me, drowns me… I'm falling, falling into a fire… The ashes scold my old, calloused hands… The heat… The heat… The heat… Those eyes…_

I jolt awake. The room is ablaze, smoke and heat coating everything. What's going on? I can hear screaming, but it's certainly not me… Nickolas! He still up there!

My feet have not run in years, but I make them run now. Straight up the stairs, through to Nickolas's room…

His cot is on fire. I snatch him from it and sprint back down the stairs, out the door, into the cool night air.

And then I look at my little Nickolas. His body is covered in red. Not blood, just red. All his beautiful hair, gone.

Gone.

He will never be the same again. Not in 14 years, not in a million years.

Never.

Never again.

Never, ever, ever again

Gone.

**T.R.'s Electronics factory, D3**

**8yrs before 225****th**** Games**

Erebort was an inpatient man. He hated children and he hated things being out of order.

That night, both were in his factory.

He was halfway through his night check of the factory when he heard clanking noises coming from the machinery room.

Someone was in there.

Someone who was not supposed to be in there.

The sound of muffled voices became clearer as he reached the door.

"Watch out... careful with that… hey, what does… stop… come back! Tyler, come back! Get off that thing!"

Erebort swung the door open to find the disposal machine on, conveyor belt whirring. A young boy, no older than 7, was sat right on it.

He was headed for the incinerator.

Another boy of around the same age stood at the side, frozen in shock.

"Oi! What are you two doing in here?!" Erebort yelled, making the latter boy jump. "You should not be here after working hours!"

"Help!" screamed the first boy, who was still edging into the incinerator.

Erebort leapt at the controls and slammed his fist down upon the emergency stop button. The old mechanisms slowly ground to a holt.

But they were too late.

The boy's leg was half in the once-grinding cogs. Lucky for him, he had also passed out.

Erebort wanted to walk away. He wanted to leave the boys to sort this mess themselves.

So he did.

He left and hoped he would never see the boy again.

But fate is a twisted thing…

**A Dark, Damp Alley**

**8yrs before 225****th**** Games**

I'm still not quite sure what happened that night. My husband just grabbed our youngest daughter, Chive, and took her out to the alley outside our house. He was particularly drunk.

All I could do was stand there shivering and hope she was ok.

He didn't come back for an hour.

I was a nervous wreck.

When he returned, there were crimson marks on his hands and Chive was not with him.

In that moment, I didn't care what happened to me. I had to see Chive.

She was lying on the pavement outside, sprawled against the wall like an unwanted old doll. Her arm was bent the wrong way and her clothes were tinted red with blood. Bruises covered her whole body, stretching up and down her legs like someone spilt ink on her.

I thought she was dead.

Waterfalls poured down my cheeks as I cradled her. My Chive, my beautiful Chive.

Gone.

But not gone; she sat up and hugged me back and I felt like the happiest person alive. It was real. She was alive.

Suddenly, her face changed. She leapt up and ran into the house. I was too scared to follow her, but I could hear yelling and curses… in Chive's voice.

What had happened? One second she was as nice as nice can be and the next she's up and at her father like a vicious little snake. She was a whole different person.

I never worked it out. In the whole 8 years that followed, I didn't figure it out. It continued, her chopping and changing between sweet, moody, cut-throat and clever. She still does it now, at 14.

It will always be a mystery to me.

**The Fields of D9**

**7yrs before 225****th**** Games**

The little girl slips through the tall wheat stems. She is enjoying life; having fun; playing hide and seek.

Hide and seek is her favourite game. She even plays on her own sometimes, in order to find the best hiding places.

District 9 is full of them.

"Lyric! Lyric, come in now! It's time for tea!"

Lyric's mother loves her daughter. She loves the simplicity of life in 9, too. Lyric loves simplicity: the simple rules, the simple boundaries, the simple walls.

Yes, Lyric loves walls. She sometimes climbs them, her little grippy fingers pulling her higher and higher.

There's only one thing Lyric doesn't like to do with walls, and that's run into them.

Unfortunately, on this quiet summer's day, that is what she does.

_Slam!_

And poor little Lyric is in tears.

From that moment on, Lyric is not same. She forgets things easily and finds it hard to read.

And her mind never seems to quite mature.

At ten, she still loves hide and seek. At thirteen, she still doesn't understand why she can't play all day.

As much as her mother likes simplicity, having a 13-year-old daughter with a 6-year-old mindset is a little too simple.

She just wants Lyric to grow up.

**D4**

**The year of the 225****th**** Games**

For someone with Down syndrome, Axel Bowport is pretty good with a saxophone.

In fact, for someone with Down syndrome, Axel Bowport is pretty good at life: he has a girlfriend, is the best in the district at wielding two tridents and can stab a moving fish.

That's pretty impressive.

Actually, Axel has a very successful life. Along with good friends and a father who loves him, he has the cutest dog you ever saw. And I mean cute.

The one thing Axel doesn't have is a way out of the reaping bowl.

He might need that.

**The Whispers' Farm, D10**

**The year of the 225****th**** Games**

I work on the Whispers' farm, mainly as a tutor to the master's son, Dante.

Dante's a year younger than me, deaf and mute. He totally relies on sign langue.

It's amazing to think that once, the world had lots of different languages. I just couldn't understand how they would trade and things before I met Dante, before I learnt sign language.

Now I totally understand. If everyone back then knew sign language, everything would be fine. People from different languages could trade, talk, everything, all without having to learn a new language. It's amazing. That sense of unity between all… It's mind-blowing.

_Someone's behind me._

I spin on my heels to see Dante.

"_Hey, Dante,_" I sign, and he replies with:

"_Hey, Alice. How are you?_"

"_Good_"

"_What are you doing?_"

"_Putting these eggs into boxes so they can go to the capitol._"

"_The what?_"

"_Doesn't matter._"

Dante is 14, but he seems younger. He's so small and innocent.

I couldn't bear to see any harm come to him.

**Medical Room, Training Centre, D4**

**1 month before 225****th**** Games**

"Ok, put it there, then twist, that's it."

"Here?"

"Yep, now twist."

_Click!_

"Done. Next!"

I take a step forwards. I'm next in line, so it's my go.

_Let's go, Cloe. Let's do this._

I go in.

District 4 has set up a room for tributes who are not disabled, but still want to volunteer. Basically, they break your wrist for you. How kind.

"Come in, hon', don't be shy," says the lady who I presume will do the honours. I bet she's thinking I won't last a second as a tribute. She's wrong. I know my way around a knife alright. Ha. I'll show her. I'll show all of Panem when I win these games.

_Calm down, Cloe. Let her break your wrist first._

I sit down on the stool next to her and hold out my left arm.

"No, no, sweetie. You do it." She hands me a sword and I take willingly. "Put the tip there and twist. It really is very easy.

"Ok." I do it in a flash.

_Click!_

"Does it hurt, hon'?"

"Of course not!"

"Good. Next!"

I leave, twisting my wrist and listening to it click. I don't know why anyone else should even bother going into these games.

It's obvious I'm going to win.

* * *

**A/N: All tributes, now up and ready to go! Thank you for reading!**

**Review, it's the same question as last time: Who is your favourite tribute so far?**

**Thanks again for reading! :D Next chapter is the Parade!**


	4. A Not-so-unexpected Guest

Mindora was on excitement overload.

For this occasion, her stylist had created a fancy new outfit made from shimmering crystal, looking like shattered glass.

Her hair had been dyed black with silver highlights for the occasion, and she loved it all.

When she walked into the centre, everyone turned and stared.

And it felt good.

Internally, Mindora was trying not to leap over to the young man who had invited her and hug him, which was trickier than it looked. Instead, she tried to be calm and elegant.

"Hello there, Genisius," Was that his name? She thought so…

He turned at her greeting. It obviously was his name, then.

"Oh, hi…" he said, looking surprised. "You. You actually came. Ah. Right."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, you just, um, well; I haven't cleared your presence with Oron yet, so you're not really allowed…"

He stopped at the sight of Mindora's face. She looked as though someone had told her that her whole, wonderful life wasn't real, that it was all a dream and real life was horrible.

She looked shattered.

"Well… ok, fine, you can stay. I'm in charge for the parade anyway, so you can stay as my guest."

"Oh, thank you, Genisius! You're so wonderful!"

"Um, yeah. Just sit still and be quiet now, will you? Please? I'm trying to work."

"Of course!"

But Mindora was anything but still and quiet, commenting on everything (Loudly, too), then squealing at the slightest thing. By the time the district 1 tributes were about to come out around a minute later, Genisius wanted to wrap Mindora's mouth in very thick, very sticky tape.

As the first tribute came out, he had to slap his hands over his ears to protect them from the onslaught of noise.

"Oh, wow!" Mindora screamed "They're so beautiful!"

And, Genisius had to admit, they were. Both tributes were wrapped in gold, sparkly bandages from the tips of their fingers to the points of their heads. The only things showing were their heads. The girl shook her flowing blonde hair and winked at the crowd, while the boy just stared around, a look of shock and loss-of-words in his blue eyes.

The next chariot earned an even bigger squeal from Mindora. Both tributes had a cast on their left arm, but were dressed as stone sculptures. While the male tribute looked strong and courageous, the girl just looked ruthless, a look of defiance in what could be seen of her eyes from behind her curly brown hair.

Mindora was the first in the room to notice District 3, giving a scream of "look at THAT!" at the sight of it.

Both tributes were glowing.

Golden energy pulsed through them, snatching the audience's attention instantly. The boy waved and smiled sweetly while the girl chose to toss her black hair and look proud. For once, the tributes from three had some attention from the crowds. Compared to that, the pair from four's outfit looked boring. Luckily, the girl managed to look sly, ruthless and beautiful, winning a bit of attention to her blue leotard and netting dress. The boy then lost the attention she gained, though, by smiling and waving in a boring and rather goofy manner.

The girl from five just looked scared. Not that anyone was looking at her; they were too busy staring at the boy. Mindora just couldn't take it all in and was so distracted, she forgot to note down the outfit design.

From six, the girl just looked ill, and the boy was awfully plain.

District 7 had trains of crisp, white paper birds floating behind them, floating on the air that the chariot displaced. The girl had all her attention on her finger and a worried expression on her face.

"Zoom in on the girl from 7," Genisius demanded. The shot revealed that she had a paper cut, but it was bleeding very badly. "Ok, get her off ASAP. We need to treat that cut."

"What?!" Mindora asked "But it's only a paper cut! What harm can that do?"

Genisius just ignored her and sent in the next tributes: district 8.

The first thing Mindora noticed about these tributes was the boy. Or, more accurately, the boy's eyes; they were brown and sort of clouded-over, like he wasn't focusing on anything at all. They disconcerted her, so she stopped looking.

As district 9 were wearing flour and nothing else, Mindora only looked for a second before averting her eyes, but did notice the innocent look in the girl's eyes.

What really struck Mindora about the district 10 chariot was… Well, the lack of… A female tribute.

"Where's the girl?" a technician asked from the back. Genisius paled.

"She… she arrived in the capitol two hours ago. Her name is Alice Belcourt, age 17. Her stats say that, although she is very underweight, she should live through training." He looked up "But stats can be wrong sometimes…"

"Do you think she's dead?" asked Mindora, still half watching the district 11 chariot (The girl from which Mindora thought looked far too menacing for a good district 11 tribute) "She could've starved…"

There was a dramatic pause in the room before Mindora suddenly said "ooh! Isn't this exciting?!"

Genisius began to pace. "Not now, not now…" He suddenly looked up. "You" he said, pointing at a technician in the front row with a tired look in his eye. "Go to the prep rooms and find her, now!"

"Genisius?" Mindora piped "If she's dead, can I pick the new tribute?"

"Yes, yes, of course… _If _she's dead."

"Awesome," Mindora said, quiet for the first time since she walked in. Of course, this didn't last for long. "Oh, look at that! Oh, how pretty!"

The 'that' in question was the district 12 chariot, in which two tributes dressed in shimmery black fabric stood, holding up long, red streamers which flickered in the wind. The girl was particularly striking, but looked at the audience as though they were crazy.

Suddenly, the tired-looking technician ran back in.

"She's right, sir," he said, pointing at Mindora. "The girl from ten… She's dead."

* * *

**A/N: Yay! New chapter, finally! I'm gonna be a while to get the next done.**

**I would like to apologise to Glitterkissed, who sent the late Alice Belcourt, and remind her that her tribute DID win last time.**

**Tell me what you think! Any feedback is so welcome you don't know it! Should I do more of this, less of that... Tell me! I love bad comments too! :D**


	5. A New Tribute

Mindora slipped her hand into the big glass bowl.

"Ooh, I've always wanted to do this!" she said, drawing out a crisp, white slip of paper. "It says… Rose Bell."

Far away in District 10, Rose was having a large-ish after-reaping feast. Not that she was eating much – she was on a very serious diet, as always.

_Rat-tat-tat._

"Who could it be?" her mother asked, "Go get it, Rose, dear."

Rose ran to the door and opened it to find-

"Two peacekeepers, Mum!"

"Coming! Just give me a minute!"

"Young lady," said the first, taller man in a serious tone, "Do you happen to be Rose Bell?"

"Yes, that's me."

"We hereby arrest you in the name of the Capitol and the Head Gamemaker, Oron Oronof."

"What?! Why?"

"You have been selected to participate in the 225th Hunger Games. You do have an injury or disability?"

"No."

The peacekeepers exchanged glances.

"You were in the reaping bowl this year," said the shorter one as though Rose were a small, stupid child, "That means you have an injury or disability."

"But I don't."

"We can soon sort that out."

"Wha-?!"

"No buts. You are now a tribute in the 225th annual Hunger Games."

Just as the peacekeepers grabbed Rose by her thin shoulders and took her away, her mother came to the door.

The two men in white took her little girl and left her to stand in the street, shocked.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, it's short, I'm sorry. The next one will be longer, I promise.**

**What did you think? Anything need improvement? Anything I did well? Tell me!**

**Also, can I please thank the wonderful flowersami for Rose Bell! And again apologise to glittergissed for killing Alice so quickly.**

**Thank**** you for reading, the next chapter will be the start of the games!**


	6. Day 1- Let the Games Begin!

**A/N: Day one of the games! Yay! Ok, so I have chosen 5 main characters, plus Mindora, and each chapter will feature one POV from each of them... Until they die, obviously.**

**Shayli is told through her friend Mackenzie's POV, so she will stay with us until the end... Or until Mackenzie dies, if she dies. Characters will be introduced as the mains meet them. I will try to get your character to meet at least one main, but this may not happen in this chapter. Some characters, for example, will only be met in the second chapter, or even later. Some will also not be seen for long, as the only time they are met is when they die... Sorry about that.**

**Soo... Enjoy! :D**

* * *

**Lyric, from District 9 (13)**

Needless to say, Lyric was easily confused. This arena very much baffled her.

What had the lady with scarred wrists said? "It's like a big game of hide and seek. When the gong goes…" Oh, what did she say next?

Poor Lyric didn't know what do at all.

_Ka-thump! Ka-thump!_

What was that?

Little Lyric's eyes widened as she fought to stay balanced.

_Boom! Boom!_

A few plates up, a boy had fallen off his pedestal and set off the mines of the boy next to him. Lyric squealed in fright as both were blown to pieces.

To say Lyric was lost in her terror would have been an understatement.

**Shayli, from District 7 (17)**

I grip my sofa tighter as a third boy is blown to pieces. That's three gone before the gong's even gone.

_Bong!_

Shayli runs straight from the cornucopia, dashing across the meadow and desert that surrounds it.

I feel myself wince as an arrow from the district 12 girl's bow hits the boy from my district right in the chest. I can't bear to watch the rest of the bloodbath, but I can still hear the screams.

_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

Six dead so far.

But Shayli's still alive.

I wonder if she's thinking of me, wishing she was here, watching, rather than there, playing.

The thought of her being all alone is horrible.

They play a few shots of people running across the desert, trying to big up the six deaths that have happened so far.

It's not really working.

_Poor Shayli…_

I run through to the tiny bedroom that I share with my sisters and see how much money I can scrape together. I have to be ready to help Shayli.

The total really isn't much.

When I return, the games footage is showing a clip of the careers. They've made it past the desert and into a bog area. Up ahead of them is a little boy from district 10. I think he's deaf; at his reaping, his name was called five times before a girl came and took him up, making foreign hand movements with tears streaming down her face.

He certainly doesn't hear the careers now, even though they're talking loudly about who's going to kill him. The girl from four seems to be winning the rights.

She runs over and taps him on the shoulder, making him turn. Her horrible face twists into a gruesome sneer before she pulls out her sword.

Suddenly, the boy from her district is there. He slices the terrified boy into little slices with his pair of tridents. The girl glares.

"That was my kill!" she growls.

"Tough," he shrugs, "I bet you couldn't have killed him anyway."

"I so could!"

"Bet you can't kill anyone."

In answer, she runs him through with her sword.

"Oh, I can kill alright," she mutters, yanking it out.

The careers just laugh and walk on, the brutes.

There's something strange about the careers this year: there's eight of them – two extras.

For some reason, the girls from 11 and 12 have joined the pack in an alliance that no-one saw coming. Those two are pretty strong, though – I wouldn't like to be against them in a fight, that's for sure.

Let's hope Shayli never is.

**Eloisa, from District 5 (17)**

My mind is going crazy again. Mutts keep appearing from nowhere, right in front of me. They're chasing me all around the desert that surrounds me, faster, faster, never slowing.

Mutts never stop to catch their breath. They never have to.

But I do.

Suddenly, I spot a gaping hole amidst the sea of sand. As I get closer, I find that it is a huge, metal-plated tunnel. It looks dark inside, but mutt free, so I run in.

Cold air hits me, a dramatic but refreshing change from the heat of the desert outside.

Suddenly, a vicious mutt appears in the opening of the tunnel and begins to barrel towards me. I have no choice but to run down the tunnel from it.

Pure terror drives me onwards.

**Zayn, from District 1 (17)**

"Keep up, Zayn!" Cloe calls to me.

I hate Cloe. She thinks she's so clever, so brutal, but really she's just annoying. I want to kill her now before she kills me, but I don't have the guts.

For the moment, I just follow the rest of the pack with Chive from 11. She seems quite nice, if al little eccentric. She keeps telling me to call her something else. I know she's called Chive, so I don't know why she's feeding me a false name, but oh well.

Flame walks on my other side. I've decided I like Flame. She's from my district and she doesn't talk much, so we're both good. In a way, she reminds me of Cali, my crush back home – blonde, brown eyed and quiet. Both Flame and Cali are beautiful and have a taste for career boys, but can get annoyed easily.

My right hand rubs against my broken left arm thoughtfully. In the month I've had this injury, it's kind of become my habit; something I do when I think of Cali.

She's the reason I broke my arm, really. I thought I wouldn't be fast enough to volunteer, but I could still impress Cali.

I was wrong.

Turns out no-one else was faster than me after all, so my efforts got me here, the total opposite of where I want to be.

Looks like I'll have to win, then.

**Mindora:**

"Eight deaths? Are you kidding me? That's rubbish!"

Mindora had been moaning about the low death rate since the gong went off. It was driving Genisius up the wall.

"Look," he said, distractedly, "I'm sure there'll be another death soon. Just calm down."

"I bet it'll be that girl from 7!" Mindora moaned, "She's so _weak!_ Don't you just hate tributes like that? I mean, look at her! She's sat in a tree, doing nothing! How boring!"

Oh, how Genisius wished Oron would turn up. Apparently, he had important business to attend to with the President, so Genisius was left in charge of the centre…

And Mindora.

Lucius, a high-ranking technician, came up to Genisius.

"Does she need some more tape?" he muttered as he passed, making Genisius chuckle.

"I just can't wait until she falls asleep! She seems to have an ignorant comment for everything, and then she just says it! It wouldn't be half as bad if she was quiet some of the time, but, no, she has to blabber on constantly!"

"Why don't you just tell her to go? When Oron comes back, you'll be in big trouble if he finds out. Well, if he does, it was nice knowing you!"

"I'll go talk to her…"

**Rayon, from District 8 (17)**

Heat weighs down on me like a ton of rocks, making it hard to breathe and move. Wind whistles across my eardrums like a heard of horses, stopping me from hearing anything but the howling gale.

That's two of my senses down. Now I can't see or hear anything.

Great bucket loads of sand lash out at my arms and legs, enveloping me in a storm of pain and wind, dulling my nerves to nothingness. My mouth is sandpaper, dry as a bone from the constant hot, dry air sailing through it.

So I can't feel or taste anything either.

To complete the set, my sense of smell is useless due to the fact that you can't smell anything in a sandstorm.

In the middle of a blistering hot, devastatingly dry, painfully windy desert, my senses are all useless. I'm lost, unable to move, defenceless to anyone who might happen to wander by.

I curl up on the hot sands and wait for cool death to take me.

* * *

**A/N: I would like to apologise to the following people for killing their characters:**

**Lady Psychopath (Dante 'Tate', D10 boy)**

**Thorne5502 (Axel, D4 boy)**

**See you all soon, don't forget to tell me what I can improve!**


	7. Day 2- Second Day Lucky?

**Mindora:**

Odon swept in majestically and turned to Genisius.

"Thank you, Genisius; I'll take over from here."

"Yes, sir," Genisius replied, bowing his head in respect.

In one corner, Mindora was finally asleep. She hadn't been that way for long, but every second had been an eon of peace for Lucius and Genisius.

But, as it always was with Mindora, her silence did not last long. And why should it? The all-powerful Oron Oronof was in the room with her. That fact could not go denied to Mindora, even in her sleep.

"Oh my… Gamemaker Oron! Oh, I can't believe it's you! I am so in awe of your work, sir, you really are wonderful!"

The high-pitched torrent of words was, of course, Mindora, who had just woken to the sight of a living legend at the other end of the room.

Unfortunately, Oron was not so happy at the sight of Mindora.

"Who is this?!" he demanded, "Genisius, we do not mix social life with this room! You, of all people, know that! Get her out! Now! Before I chuck you both out!"

Mindora looked like the world had crashed and burned around her.

"But… But, Oron, please let me stay! I'm a massive fan; these games are my greatest passion!"

"I don't care! Get out of my centre or I will put you in those games myself!"

"You would do that? Oh, please can I go in, pl-?"

"I said, _out!_"

"But-"

"_OUT!_"

**Shayli, D7 (17)**

My eyelids crack open. I'm still in front of the T.V. I must've fallen asleep while watching for Shayli.

_Shayli!_

She's on the screen now, hiking through picturesque forests next to a stream. I examine her body as she walks. A task which is easier said than done due to the constant switching of camera angles.

Just as I finish, she suddenly stops. Beneath her, the ground trembles slightly. Her feet start to sink into the ground. Is she standing in quicksand? Surely the Gamemakers wouldn't just let her die like that, so soon with out another tribute involved?

The ground continues to shake violently, and Shayli drops straight down into the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the cannon.

After a few seconds without any sound, I crack an eye open.

The shot has changed. Now it shows a girl who I don't recognise. That's strange; I watched the Reapings twice, and then the Reaping recap, too.

Anyway, she's just waking up. I turn the volume up so I can find out who she is.

"…had a rough time so far, Caesar, yes." Claudius Templesmith is saying, "After the gong, she just ran, not picking up anything at the cornucopia. That means she hasn't eaten anything yet."

"Mind you, Claudius, she's rather weak for a District 10 citizen anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if…"

I turn the volume down again as the blonde girl gets up. A wide angle is shown, taking in her and the nearest tributes - the careers.

_I don't want to watch this._

But I can't turn off the T.V. It's impossible; the Justice building controls our TVs this time of year, and they turn it on when the Hunger Games is showing. If you try to turn it off, Peacekeepers arrive to watch it with you… for the rest of the Games.

My eyelids squeeze together again as the careers draw ever-closer to the girl…

**Zayn, District 1 (17)**

"Be quiet a second, Bianca," says the girl from 12. (Ila was it?) We all shut up.

"What is it?" asks Cloe from 4, who has somehow become our sort of leader. "Another tribute?"

"Yeah…" she whispers.

"Let's get them!" yells Ajax, from 2. He's the only other boy in the group and he's a right idiot. I think Flame and I are the only sane ones around here. Even Chive, who I thought was alright, has left me.

Hang on, where is Flame?

I look up into the trees above my head. She's sitting there, looking over the top at the thing we heard.

"How many?" I ask. She holds up one finger in reply and I nod back.

Everyone else is arguing over who will kill this tribute, so I sneak past them with ease and slip into the clearing.

_There._

Very carefully, I slip behind her and get her in a headlock, then hit her over the head with my mace. She's out cold in an instant, with a big cut running across her scalp. Next, I grab my knife and-

She's very small, isn't she? And extremely thin.

Without my consent, part of my brain imagines her with her family, at home. What will they be thinking now?

I sigh. This is crazy. All I need to do is slit her throat! It's really not that hard.

But I can't quite bring myself to do it.

I'll… I'll just leave her here. The others can do it.

Just as I'm about to drop her and go, I sense a presence.

_Someone's behind me._

"Go on," says a voice – Cloe.

"Yeah, what are you waiting for?" Ajax.

"Look, if you don't want to do it…" Bianca.

"No, no! I'll do it for you!" Chive.

"Shut up, all of you. He got here first, so he gets to kill her." The girl from 12 (Eve was it?)

"Yeah, Ivy's right," –Ivy, that was it- "Let Zayn do it." Says Cloe.

I will do this. For Cali.

My knife goes up and I close my eyes.

_Boom!_

**Lyric, District 9 (13)**

_Hide, hide, hide. Run, run, hide._

She didn't know what was hidden enough. What had that nice lady who smelt of sweets said? "Never, never, let anyone find you. If they do…"

Oh, she had never been good at remembering anything.

Down the metal tunnels she ran, turning randomly. Every now and then, she would reach a dead end, so turn around and run back the way she came.

The silence cut her to the core.

And she was so _afraid._

**Rayon, District 8 (17)**

The change when I get out of the desert is instant; the heat goes – I can literally feel the shade on my back - and the wind stops, along with the biting sand.

I inhale the clear air and take a step further into this cool haven.

_Clank! _The sound bounces off many walls around me. I'm in some sort of metal tunnel.

For a little while, I walk down the passages with my hand on one wall, following the side. Down, down, down it goes, right into the ground.

Suddenly, I hear something up ahead and stop. It sounds like the ping noise of a parachute, maybe 200metres away. This is followed by the sound of an opening catch, a gasp (female, someone older than me), and a clank of metal on metal, almost like… Well, sort of like when my father repairs the sewing machine at home – the sound of mechanics.

"No! No! Please, no!" It's a different girl's voice, this time closer.

"Shut up and stop wriggling" This voice is different: older and lower.

_Who are they? Come on, Rayon, they were both in training with you!_

"No! Get that dirty piece of metal out of my face! Help! Someone he-" The first voice is quickly silenced. Was it… Oh, the girl from six! Yes, the trainers kept dragging her out of the medical room, telling her that she didn't need morphling.

"No-one's helping you now, stupid," says the second voice – possibly the girl from three? Yes, it is, but I certainly can't imagine her saying that.

There are sounds of a struggle, then a cannon shot and feet walking away.

I shiver.

I just heard a murder.

**Eloisa, District 5 (17)**

Mutts crawl from every passage around me, ready to strike at any second. I'm trapped. I don't want to die like this… Please, anyone, save me!

Tears leak from my eyes down to my mouth and I shut my eyes, tight. My legs buckle beneath me and I collapse.

The world fades out…

"Hello? Hello, can you hear me?"

Blinking, I wake to see a boy's face in front of mine. I scramble back as fast as I can. At the cornucopia, I only picked up three bottles of water and I can't reach them now, so I'm totally defenceless.

When I reach the metal wall, I look at him properly and gasp.

"What happened to your face?!" I can't help but ask.

He gets up from his crouched position and stares at his feet. "I… I, um… It got very burnt when I was 18 months. Seventy-five percent burns all over my body."

It's so sad a sight that I forget to be scared for a moment… Until I see the man in white, standing right behind him.

"Look out!" I yell, "There's a man behind you!"

The boy spins on his heels and looks around. "No there isn't." he says, and he's right; the man's gone.

"Never mind…" I mutter, "He turns up sometimes…" I spot the look on his face. He thinks I'm crazy. "Oh, forget it."

He sighs. "I'm Nick, from District 5. You?"

"Eloisa, District 5." I say, "But I don't remember you from the reapings…" I try to think of what I do remember from the reapings. Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing my district partner at all. It probably was him.

"Allies?" he asks.

"Yeah, ok. Let's go."

We start off again down the tunnel.

Should I trust him?

* * *

**A/N: I would like to apologise to the following people for killing their tributes:**

**shady in the ghetto (Quinn, D6 girl)**

**flowersami (Rose, D10 girl)**

**I have friend called Imp97. She is writing an SYOT and is in desperate need of tributes. If any of you can help, it would be very, very welcome. I'll have a link up on my page if you want to find it.**

**See you soon!**


	8. Day 3- Secrets and Heartbreak

**Zayn, D1 (17)**

We get up at dawn, following a red river in hope of finding others.

Around an hour later, we reach the mouth and go inside, under Cloe's instructions. The red water is strange; difficult to walk through, so the going is slow.

"What is this stuff?" asks Ivy.

"Who cares?" counters Chive, who is very moody today, almost a different person compared to a couple of days ago.

"It looks like blood. I would know," says Ajax, cockily. Typical.

Cloe dips her finger in and tastes. "Yeah," she says, "Yeah, it is blood."

Flame gags beside me.

Bianca literally throws up. Several times. I don't watch.

"What is wrong with you?!" asks Chive, "It's just blood! I thought you had been trained to know about this stuff!"

"Yeah," Bianca says weakly, "That's not it. I'm just not feeling good."

"You threw up yesterday morning as well," points out Ivy, "Are you really ill?"

"I'll be fine," mutter Bianca, "It's nothing, really."

"Come on, we need to speed up!" calls Cloe.

We try to walk faster, but Flame and I are still at the back. She nudges me.

"What?"

Flame implies an extended stomach with her finger then points to Bianca.

"I don't get it. Just say it, Flame."

She shakes her head and opens her mouth. I look at her blankly, then stare at her in horror.

Flame has no tongue.

No wonder she's been a bit quiet.

She points to Bianca again, then mimes throwing up.

"Yeah, yeah, she's sick, I know."

Then she pats her abdomen and moves her hand forward, like it's swollen.

Everything snaps into place.

Bianca's pregnant.

**Shayli, D7 (17)**

_Finally, a shot of Shayli._

She's not at all dead, she's… Underground.

It turns out that the arena has a lower level of tunnels and passages. Shayli is alive, and following a long, level passageway that leads straight up the centre of the arena. She's quite a long way from the top.

Suddenly, a girl appears out of seemingly nowhere. She's the girl from three, and she's armed with another sharp, long scrap of steel. Yesterday, she got a sponsor gift of a spanner and unscrewed part of her metal leg, revealing a few sharp scraps covered in oil. She used one – a slightly shorter one, about the length of her palm - to kill the girl from six.

And Shayli's next.

My mother sits next to me on the sofa and gives me a huge hug. I bury my face into her shoulder so I can't see the final blow. Saltwater runs into my mouth – tears. I let out a huge long scream and sob into my mother's shoulder. She strokes my hair and whispers in my ear as the cannon goes off. Her silent tears mix with my mine and we both think of poor Shayli.

That girl will pay for this.

**Mindora:**

Mindora had sat outside the centre for a whole day.

They weren't letting her back in.

Fine. She could go on without them.

Couldn't she?

Mindora leant forward a sobbed. No, she couldn't live on now. She had to get into that centre. She had to get involved somehow.

But how? How could she get in?

Her gaze wandered up to the huge screens on the other side of the square. One was showing the career pack, another the betting odds and a final one the arena, with markers pinpointing the tributes.

What if… No, that would be stupid.

But…

Well…

What if she went into the arena? Didn't that better the Gamemaking centre? Didn't it?

But, how?

Mindora leapt up.

She didn't care how. Whatever happened, she was going into that arena.

**Rayon, D8 (17)**

A cannon just fired.

How many does that make now?

Eight on day one and two yesterday, plus this one, that's… Eleven.

Back in district eight, is a tribute makes it to the final 8, they send them a sponsor gift.

It hardly ever happens.

I love district eight. If I get through this, I can go back there.

But would I be me, or a monster?

**Lyric, D9 (13)**

Lyric curled herself into a tiny ball everything was confusing her and there were no little gaps for her to crawl into to hide form it all. There she sat, at the end of a tunnel identical to all the others, waiting for something to take her.

In her tight clutches, she held a scrap of metal no longer than her tiny hand. Some instinct had told her to pick it up when she had found in a tunnel further back, but she had long forgotten the reasoning behind it.

Back in district 9, she would collect things that she found between the rows of corn. She would keep them all in a little heap in her house.

It was amazing what she would pick up down in those fields. Pins and flowers, nets and scraps. Were she at home, she would've added this sharp little scrap to her pile as well.

"No, no, I swear we were here before!" The voice startled her, making her curl up tighter

"Never mind let's just go this way…"

This second voice was followed by footsteps coming towards her.

What should she do?! She was trapped!

"_Never let _anyone_ find you…"_

She had to run.

Lyric got up and sprinted up the steep tunnel as fast as she had ever gone before. She passed the first person – a girl, though she couldn't see any of her features – very fast, then ran a few metres more before finding the second person.

He was tall and lanky, and didn't see Lyric coming until she collided with him. The impact shocked Lyric so much, she dropped her shard of metal before she ran on, leaving it where it had last found itself.

In his gut.

But Lyric ran on, unawares.

**Eloisa, D5 (17)**

I spin around as I hear feet scuffle past me, but I don't see anyone.

Suddenly, I hear Nick, further up the steeply inclined tunnel.

"Argh! Eloisa? Eloisa, help…"

Instantly, I sprint back up the tunnel to him and inspect the damage. A sharp of metal protrudes from his abdomen, surrounded by blood-soaked fabric with mutts crawling from it.

I flinch back. Are the mutts real?

When I look again, they are gone, but I can see they injury properly and wish they were still blocking my view.

_Deep breaths, Eloisa, deep breaths._

My gaze travels up to meet Nick's.

"It's bad, isn't it?" he whispers. I nod.

"You… you know there's nothing I can do, don't you?" I whisper.

"Yeah."

He collapses onto the metal floor of the tunnel and slides to the bottom of the dead-end passage.

"Nick? Oh, Nick…"

His body has crumpled in on itself in a most unnatural way.

_Boom!_

Someone screams. They sound really heartbroken, really sad. I scream again. Oh, it's me.

"No! Nick! Please, Nick! Nickolas, come back! Get up, Nick, get up!"

Who does that voice belong to? Oh yeah, me again.

The mutts crawl out of their hiding places in the shadows and take Nick's body.

I'm not strong enough to fight them off. They can take me as well for all I care.

I won't stop them.

* * *

**A/N: Hey! Did you like it? Which character POV is your favourite? Tell me below! I love knowing what you think!**

**I would like to apologise to the following people for killing their tributes:**

**leven1313 (Shayli, D7)**

**DeathbladeMeister (Nick, D5)**

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	9. Day 4- Tears and Trickery

**Eloisa, D5 (17)**

Nick was 12th to die.

Nick's dead.

I start sobbing again. How dare that girl kill him! I'll find her. I'll find her and make her regret it; make her sorry like I am for not catching her at first. She'll see.

I run off after her with that little scrap of metal.

Nick will not die in vain.

**Lyric, D9 (13)**

Lyric eventually stopped in another dead-end and examined herself.

Blood was caked in her hair and under her nails, as well as staining her hands and clothes in parts. Her grey eyes widened and she tried to scrub it off. She didn't know why, but she needed to get it all off.

Lyric had been running for some time, mainly from the screaming and sobbing that bounced off the walls, chasing her further and further into the labyrinth.

They were gone now as well, leaving only an eerie silence that hung in the air like a damp blanket. It scared Lyric.

Then again, most things scared Lyric.

**Zayn, D1 (17)**

I watch as Bianca throws up again.

"You alright?" Ivy asks.

"Yeah," she mutters, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You just threw up – again! You're not fine at all! What's wrong, Bianca?"

"Nothing, nothing…" She moves to the back with me and Flame.

We are now walking down some underground path, so the ground below our feet is solid and the going is a lot quicker.

"Who was it?" I ask. Bianca looks bewildered. I nod down at her stomach. "Who's the father?"

She pales instantly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. Fame and I worked out you were pregnant a while ago now. All I want to know is who the father is."

"I'm not telling you on live T.V."

"Whisper."

She glances at me. After seeing the look on my face, she seems to realise that I'm just going to pester her about it, so she nods.

"I'll just say it. He deserves to know anyway."

"Go on…"

She sighs. "He's called Killian or Kil' for short." She pats her belly. "It only happened a few weeks ago, and I only realised when I got to the capitol, by which point, it was too late. But now I'm here, I have to win. For me, the baby, and Kil'…"

I look around. Everyone is staring. They all heard.

_Damn. She's going to kill me for that._

Sure enough, she grabs a knife and lunges at my throat.

"You'll pay for this, you little…"

Up ahead, the path branches. I run down the left fork and draw my sword.

And then I look over my shoulder.

Behind me is a huge, bubbling pit of green liquid. I certainly don't want to go in there.

Bianca rushes towards me with a knife in each hand, screaming curses. I try to sidestep her and she misses me, but I earn a gash on my shoulder. Luckily, Cloe is there (Never though I'd say that!), a malicious smile on her face. She pushes Bianca straight into the pool and grins a devilish grin.

I collapse onto the ground. My shoulder hurts so much I can barely stand.

The water starts to froth where Bianca went in, and I start to back away, despite my injury (Though it takes a lot of effort). Out of the pool appears a huge, terrifying…

Rat.

It stands taller than me, with knife-like, razor-sharp claws and curly brown fur. I stare at its chocolate-brown eyes.

Big mistake.

Those eyes are Bianca's. That rat is… Bianca.

Flame works it out a split second before me and gives a strange, guttural shriek as she pulls me away from it.

Cloe, however, steps straight up to it and stabs it in the gut with her knife, grinning as the blood oozes onto her hand.

That's when I throw up. I throw up until there's absolutely nothing left in my stomach.

When I get up, shaking, Flame's hand is on my back.

"Thanks," I whisper.

"Done?" says Cloe. I nod. "Then let's leave this hellhole."

And she saunters off, like killing a nice girl like Bianca as a rat-mutt is an everyday activity.

Mental note: stay on Cloe's good side.

At all costs.

**Shayli, D7 (17) (Via Mackenzie)**

I curl up, trembling. _Shayli's dead._

A shiver runs down my spine.

For some reason, I'm still watching the Games. Possibly because I want to see who kills that beastly girl from three. Now I'm pretty much only watching her.

She teamed up with the boy from her district a few hours ago, and now they're heading up the main tunnel that runs the length of the arena again.

The shot of them swaps to a plan view of the whole arena.

And then it hits me.

The arena is a body.

Right in the centre, over where the heart would be, is the cornucopia. From there, a small meadow, big desert and wide band of bog cover the torso, the abdomen covered by beautiful, green woods. The arms are metal tunnels to the elbow and thick, coniferous to the fingertips.

Underground, there are red blood-rivers in the exact place of the main arteries, and the main tunnel is down the spine, where the main nerves are. Almost all of the systems inside the body have been represented by tunnels.

Although I hate the Gamemakers and their total evilness, I have to say that this is arena is pretty genius.

Suddenly, I spot something. The force-field around the arena is shrinking. The body is loosing its hands and feet.

Just like some of the tributes here have done!

I can't help but wonder what else this arena will throw at these tributes.

**Mindora:**

Mindora watched on the screens as a hovercraft came into the arena and took the body of the girl from two, ready to…

What did they do with tribute bodies? Send them back to their families?

But surely not in that state, that would be the height of bad manners! So did someone make them up again?

Mindora gasped. That was it! She would help make-up the tributes! Yes!

She rushed off and, within the hour, had found a way into the 'Morgue' – the place where the tributes go after they are killed.

Brilliant!

Now, not only was she getting involved with the games, she was meeting the tributes, too!

It all started tomorrow…

**Rayon, D8 (17)**

Silence. It's one of the worst things for a blind person to hear. It gives them no insight as to what's going on around you at all.

As I run through the cold, metal tunnels that is all I can hear: silence.

My ears are so familiar to the sounds of sewing machines and needles and factories that it almost hurts them with too much silence, and makes me want to scream.

But that would give my position away. I'm so disadvantaged, I wouldn't be able to fight off any attackers, so hiding and keeping moving is my best bet.

Best bet? What am I on about? If it comes down to it, there is no way I would be able to do anything against anyone. Considering I would have to kill someone if I were to win, I don't think there's much point me being here.

But I won't give in that easily.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short compared to others. There just wasn't much for me to say...**

**I would like to apologise to BecauseofKillianJones for killing Bianca, and remind them that in SYOTs, we do not tolerate repeatedly sent characters, and that you will find that Bianca will not win any of her games as she is a Mary-Sue and SYOT authors are wise to that sort of thing.**

**I would also like to remind you all that my SYOTs from now on will not be first-come-first-serve, but I-will-choose-from-what-I-get. I do NOT like Mary-Sues. Any sent to my stories will not be accepted in any way. DX**

**Thank you to everyone who sent in an original, well-thought-through character. I am very grateful. :D**

**In your review, please tell me two things you think I could improve and one thing you think I did well. Thank you for reading!**


	10. Day 5- Halfway There

**Rayon, D8 (17)**

A song echoes down the tunnels.

Somewhere is this awful maze, a little girl sits and sings, her voice echoing off the walls. It's probably a song meant for little children to fall asleep to, and she sings it slowly and thoughtfully, like it's been sung to her every night of her life and it's full of good memories.

The singer herself sounds like she's between five and eight, but that can't be true. Maybe she's twelve? It's the youngest she could be.

The song has a slow, winding tune, the way she sings it, which has an instant soporific effect on me. At first, I think it must be a lullaby.

Until I listen to the lyrics.

"_Ring-a-ring- a roses,_

_A pocket full of posies._

_A-tishoo! A-tishoo!_

_We all fall down…"_

The last line rings in my head.

_We all fall down…_

How apt. I bet the capitolites love this, a little girl singing about death.

_We all fall down…_

"_Ring-a-ring-a roses,"_

That could describe anything. I think of the cornucopia and how we are like roses, all set out in a ring for the capitolites to gaze at. Well, we probably look like roses after the gong goes off.

"_A pocket full of posies."_

Yes. A group of teenagers in their prime.

"_A-tishoo! A-tishoo!"_

In the deep, echoing tunnels, the words turn to screams and the _boom_ of a cannon.

"_We all fall down…"_

Leaving one standing.

Who would write such an awful song? Not a district 8 citizen, that's for sure.

The words begin to become mangled and unintelligible as they are sung over and over, again and again, until only the sweet tune remains.

There, in the midst of a horrific song, I fall asleep.

**Lyric, D9 (13)**

"_Ring-a-ring-a roses, a pocket full of posies. A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down…"_

Lyric sang, remembering happy days of singing and skipping among tall, golden stems of corn as a tiny girl.

She didn't care about giving her location away. For the moment, she was happy, singing her little song until she grew tired and sang herself to sleep.

**Eloisa, D5 (17)**

I'm still depressed.

These stupid tunnels don't help. I haven't seen the sun in four days, and it's doing bad things to my brain. The hallucinations are constant, even when I'm asleep, plus, I'm running out of water.

I started with a few bottles, but drank one dry on the first day. I've now only got one left. So I'm rationing it very carefully – one sip if I'm a bit thirsty, three if I'm very thirsty.

So far, it's sort of working, but I'm not sure how long it will last. A couple of days at best, most likely.

Suddenly, the sound of running water meets my ears.

Maybe I won't die of dehydration after all…

**Shayli, D7 (17) (Via Mackenzie)**

The pair from three – Emeara and Tyler – have made their way to the top of the arena – the head, almost.

And what's in a head? A brain. The thing that controls your whole body.

District three has gained control of it.

I can't see how they can loose now.

Again, something inside me snaps.

How dare such an evil girl take control of the arena! Those Gamemakers should do something about it! It is a totally unfair advantage!

I hurl insults at the T.V until my mother comes in again and carries me to the bedroom I share with my only sister. I don't stop screaming even then, yelling things about the capitol and the games to the high heavens, so loud my mother has to put a gag on me and tie my hands and legs down.

That Emeara from three will die, I swear.

_I swear._

**Mindora:**

The Morgue. For most people, a horrible place that stank of death, depression and cleaning fluids. Pretty much everyone hated the bare metal walls, floors and ceilings or couldn't help but notice the off-red stains on the unoccupied metal dressing benches. A few wondered how many tributes have lain on each one after their gruesome end; how many families have been totally altered by the things that happen in here.

But not Mindora.

As she was shown around by the head dresser, a sceptical woman named Moll, she only wonders at said things. She finds it amazing that a place can smell dirty and clean at the same time; can be so shiny and smooth; can have so many stories in each bench.

Everything she saw made her want that job more.

Finally, Mindora was shown a room lined with T.V screens, all showing the arena.

"Hey, the pack's made its way to the acid pool! Everyone to their places, this is going to be messy!"

"Ok, Mindora," said Moll, "You're over there, with me. Well, you're a runner. That means you get anything I need and bring it to me. You can start with reaping clothes, once we know who the victim is. They're down the corridor, all labelled up with gender and district. While you're down there, you can get the make-up kits. We'll need kit's A, C and F, possibly Z, too."

"On it!"

"Wait. First, you watch for who it is."

**Zayn, D1 (17)**

It could well be dusk when we reach the clear lake. Then again it could be midday, or even dawn. I think it's the fifth day in the arena, though, with thirteen dead so far.

Cloe decides that we'll camp here, on the shore of the lake, just to get a bit of rest. Chive almost fell asleep where she stood a minute ago; I think that's what prompted it.

We set out our tents and things, then make a fire to cook on and keep us warm. Flame, Ivy and I sit on the beach and skim stones.

My first attempt fails miserably, the stone sinking into the water without even a splash.

"Oh, that was horrendous!" Ajax says, stepping over to us, "Here, let me show you."

He picks up a stone and skims it. It course, it goes right out over around ten hops.

"That was good!" exclaims Ivy, "How? Show me!"

"Of course," says Ajax, rather arrogantly I must say, "First, you find a flat, round stone."

Ivy spots one and in the water and steps in to grab it, then shrieks in alarm. Flame and I jerk back at the noise.

"What?" I ask, but then I see it. The supposed 'water' is eating away at Ivy's skin at an alarming rate; it must be some sort of acid.

Instantly, Chive sprints forwards and pushes Ivy right in.

Back in District one, we have public whippings and executions. They aren't at all common, but I have seen the odd one or two.

When they do happen, it's compulsory viewing. Everyone gathers in the main square to watch. You would think that no-one would look, that everyone would turn away, but that's not what happens at all. Instead, everyone watches intently in horror.

It's like that now. Everyone in our little alliance is watching Ivy drown in acid. Flame is giving a sort of silent scream, her face a twisted mask of utter horror; Chive is laughing heartlessly; Ajax is watching with a bemused expression, his eyes flicking between Chive and Ivy; Cloe is staring right at Ivy with her eyebrows right up, but not with a look of horror on her face, more a look of awe (I think she's looking at Chive, actually).

"Help, help!" Ivy shrieks, flailing about with what is left of her arms.

We all watch (And Ivy screams) as the water around her gradually turns red then clear again. All that's left is her pure-white skeleton.

And, again, as it was with Bianca, Cloe just shrugs and goes back to what she was doing, not caring that we are now down to five.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry for stressing at you all last chapter... Mary-Sues just get on my nerves. Though what I said also applies to Gary-Stus, by the way.**

**I am going back to school tomorrow, so updates will become fewer and further between. Sorry. I will try to get the story done before homework properly sets in. ;)**

**Today's Review question: 'Was Ivy's death too graphic and/or morbid? Should this fic be rated M?'**

**Thank you for reading!**


	11. Day 6- Four Days To Go

**Zayn, D1 (17)**

Ajax and Cloe take the first watch.

Halfway through the night, I wake and hear them talking.

"…becoming way too powerful." Cloe is saying

"Yes, we have to kill her now, before she kills us, too. You saw her with Ivy. She would happily do that to any one of us." Ajax replies.

"You want to do the honours?"

"Yeah, ok."

"Go on, then. Make sure she doesn't wake up first."

"I will"

Their voices are followed by the sound of footsteps, a cannon and Cloe's sigh of relief. I climb out of my tent.

"Who?" I ask, "Who's dead?"

"Chive," grins Cloe. I sigh like sis and go back into my tent.

"Thanks!" I call over my shoulder. I don't know if she heard me.

**Lyric, D9 (13)**

_Boom!_

The cannon woke Lyric instantly. Her doe-like eyes gazed around fearfully before she worked out that she was safe, so went back to her gentle singing.

"_Ring-a-ring-a roses, a pocket full of posies. A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down…"_

Little did she know, she wasn't the only one in those tunnels…

**Eloisa, D5 (17)**

Water, I must find water… The sound of waterfalls stops as suddenly as it started.

The cannon startles me, and I almost trip over a boy lying at the side of the tunnel. He has sandy blonde hair and, more importantly, a pack. I disentangle it from his fingers and go through the contents. He has some food and four bottles of water, three of which are untouched.

I breathe a sigh of relief and slit his throat. Then I clean my hands, a luxury I have not enjoyed in the past few days. My hands are filthy, covered in blood and dirt. Thank goodness for this water.

Suddenly, I hear the notes of a song drifting up the tunnel towards me.

"_Ring-a-ring-a roses, a pocket full of posies. A-tishoo! A-tishoo! We all fall down..."_

It's quite a pretty song, and a foolish mistake on the singer's part. Something inside tells me that the little girl singing is my enemy, the one who killed Nick.

_She must die._

**Mindora:**

When a body came in, the Morgue was a different place entirely. Suddenly, Mindora thought, everyone appeared from the shadows and did something. It was very impressive.

Then again, 'everyone' was five people, Mindora included. Moll ran it all, with Mindora as her runner. Then there were the two make up artists and the only person who didn't touch the body: Pia, the older lady who ran the computer room single-handedly. The clothes were sorted by Moll.

The boy from eight was Mindora's third job, and the easiest so far.

There was something about working as a team like this, thought Mindora as she collected another make up set, it's wonderful to be so involved.

So her first days were a success. But the games weren't over yet…

**Shayli, D7 (Via Mackenzie)**

I wake around dawn, then again at dusk. Last night, I yelled so much, my mother had to knock me out so I would shut up. We have no painkillers or anaesthetics, so my head is still throbbing.

When she sees that I am awake and remotely calm, my mother moves me onto the sofa so I can watch the games.

The day is drawing to a close, but they do show a bit of a clip of Emeara and Tyler for a minute or two.

They seem to be finding it hard to work out how to control the software. They've figured out a few things, like how to show the whole arena and see where the tributes are, but they're rather clueless, really.

I grin. They're struggling. That means they would be totally defenceless if a career came in.

I hope one does.

* * *

**A/N: That really was a very short chapter. I'm afraid I cannot at all guarantee longer chapters from here... Especially not next chapter, which is the recap chap! But anyway... they will eventually get longer.**

**Thank you for reading! Review with the answer to the following question:**

**Which has been your favourite death so far and why?**

**(Yeah, it sounds very capitolite... I mean to do with how I write it)**

**See you soon!**


	12. Day 7- Recap Chap!

**A/N: I understand that this stuff can be rather confusing, so I'm doing a recap chap to let you know what's going on.**

**Off we go…**

**Day 1:**

**Deaths: 8 (Inc. D10's Tate and D4's Axel)**

**Total Deaths: 8**

**Remaining Tributes: 16**

**Day 2:**

**Deaths: 2 (D10's Rose and D6's Quinn)**

**Total Deaths: 10**

**Remaining Tributes: 14**

**Day 3:**

**Deaths: 2 (D7's Shayli and D5's Nick)**

**Total Deaths: 12**

**Remaining Tributes: 12**

**Day 4:**

**Deaths: 1 (D2's Bianca)**

**Total Deaths: 13**

**Remaining Tributes: 11**

**Day 5**

**Deaths: 1 (D12's Ivy)**

**Total Deaths: 14**

**Remaining Tributes: 10**

**Day 6**

**Deaths: 2 (D11's Chive and D8's Rayon)**

**Total Deaths: 16**

**Remaining Tributes: 8**

**The Final 8:**

**Flame and Zayn, D1**

**Ajax, D2**

**Emeara and Tyler, D3**

**Cloe, D4**

**Eloisa, D5**

**Lyric, D9**

**The games will be 10 days long, and this chapter counts for day 7 as nothing happens that day.**

**Thanks for reading; I'll see you on Day 8! Be sure to vote in the poll! :D**

**(Did any of you actually read that? If you read it ALL, please put 'R3V13W' in your review. Even if your review literally just has that in it. ;) )**


	13. Day 8- The Final 8

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. It's a poor excuse, but school has caught up with me. :(**

**Poll results! 8/13 of you voted, that's ok... If I do another, I expect more from you!**

**1st place: Lyric of district 9 with 4 votes!**

**2nd Place: Ajax of district 2 and Cloe of district 4 with 3 votes each!**

**3rd place: Flame and Zayn of district 1 and Eloisa of district 5 with 2 votes!**

**Emeara and Tyler got no votes... Sorry.**

**Thank you to all who voted! This chapter is a bit longer, and the next one will be longer still! :D**

**See you then!**

* * *

**Zayn, D1 (17)**

"Argh!"

A scream echoes the lake. Ajax. Why is he screaming?

I climb out of my tent and run over to where Cloe is dragging Ajax out of his. Flame follows close behind.

"Ajax!" Cloe yells "Ajax, speak to me! What happened?!"

In answer, Ajax carefully lifts up his arm. A bright blue light flashes below his skin – his tracker. Suddenly, the light brightens and stops flashing, making Ajax scream again. We all take a step back as he screams and screams and screams.

"What is it doing to him?!" Cloe whimpers.

"No idea," I answer, "But it looks awful. Do you think it's the Gamemakers?"

"They wouldn't just do that. They would get another tribute to do…"

I spin around as Cloe trails off. Flame stands there with her hand on a spear jutting out of Cloe's back, a look of determination on her face.

Ajax falls to the ground, silent. Two cannons go off – one for Cloe and one for him.

"Ok," I whisper, "Let's get the tents and go."

**Shayli, D7 (Via Mackenzie, 17)**

Tyler and Emeara high-five each other. They just killed the boy from two via his tracker.

"Ok, let's take the girl from one next," says Emeara, flicking a few switches. "Hit it, Ty!"

Tyler hits the button with his palm. Nothing happens. A message pops up on the screen before him.

"Oh," he says sadly, "We can only do that once."

"Well, let's find a new way to kill her, then." Emeara replies and they start looking.

The shot then switches to a clip of an interview between Emeara's brother and an orange lady.

"Is it true you made Emeara's leg?" she asks.

"Yes," says her brother, "Yes, I made it myself after Splinter –that's what I call her - had her original one amputated. It got infected when she was four."

"That's very impressive…"

I mute the screen and let my hate take over my insides. _Him. He is the one who made Shayli's death possible. He must also die._

But wait. He obviously really cares about Emeara. So if Emeara died… It would break him like Shayli's death broke me.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.

Emeara must die.

**Mindora:**

While Mindora gathered clothes and make-up for the latest dead tributes, a new arrival appeared in the morgue.

And he wasn't dead.

Lucius Walker was a Gamemaker, working directly with Head Gamemaker Oron Oronof, here today to discuss the acid lake with Moll, who had complained viciously after having to totally remodel Ivy.

As he came into the Morgue's main working space, so did Mindora.

The recognition was instant.

"You!" he gasped, he yelled, "You! What are you doing here?!"

"Working," Replied Mindora, indignantly, "I work here."

"No you don't. Not any more."

"What? But-"

"You heard me, Miss. After your break-in at the centre, Oron wants a word with you."

"But-"

"No buts! You're coming with me!"

And with that, Mindora was taken away from her new job, her new happiness, and thrown into a future horror…

**Lyric, D9 (13)**

The cannons woke Lyric. She was sitting in her little dead-end, wondering what to do next.

"_It's like a big game of hide and seek"_

The voice came floating into her memory, and Lyric suddenly understood. All she had to do was to wait for somebody to find her, and then she could look for other people instead. Or she could be the 'seeker' – everyone else must've been found by now, surely? Except her, obviously. Well, if she sang, the person closest would find her and Lyric could count and do the fun part – looking.

So she sang and, sure enough, a girl soon appeared, a big grin on her face.

"Found you!" the girl said, lifting up her right arm and pointing "Found you, at last!"

"Good!" Lyric replied, grinning, "I'll count now… one… two… three… four… five… six… seven…"

**Eloisa, D5 (17)**

I frown what's this stupid girl doing now? Why is she counting when I'm about to kill her?

"Eight… nine… ten!" she says, uncovering her eyes, "Coming, ready or-"

"Not," I finish for her, slitting her throat, "Like Nick wasn't ready for you, you twerp. There. You paid."

I stare down at her lifeless body as the cannon goes off, but, suddenly, I don't feel pride or happiness. Nor do I feel completion now that Nick's death has been avenged. Instead, I realise what I just did. My hand flies to her side as I stare into her big, grey eyes. Even in death, she looks sweet and innocent.

I have killed an innocent little girl. A girl who, really, was still the same person, still playing, despite the evil rules everyone else was playing to.

And the man in white appears beside her. For once, he lifts the visor on his helmet.

And I see that it's not a man at all, but a woman; a mother.

This girl's mother.

Her deep, stormy eyes stare at her daughter in shock, and her mouth forms an 'O' of pain. She looks at me and her eyes fill with tears. Tears of pain and sorrow.

Because I killed her daughter.

Then her mouth twists into a grimace of hate. She lifts her gun – the one that she always almost grabbed – and shoots straight at me. The bullet makes no sound as it flies through the air and turns into a little scrap of metal so like the one I killed the girl with. A scrap that I catch.

But the momentum still drags it forwards into my chest, where it wedges itself with a boom like a cannon.

The last thing I see is that lady's face.

* * *

**A/N: I would like to apologise to the following authors for killing their tributes:**

**books-are-brain-food345 (Ajax)**

**PeenissandClato (Cloe)**

**this slope is Treacherous (Lyric) (She has an epic username; it is a Taylor Swift Lyric!)**

**RuetheDay (Eloisa) (She also has an epic username ;)**


	14. Day 9- Twenty Down, Four to Go

**A/N: In reply to wondering(guest)'s review, I will never, ever change my username. RuetheDay is a great person, yes, but I like my name. It makes me... me. Sorry.**

**Now, enjoy the story! :D**

* * *

**Zayn, D1 (17)**

We walked, Flame and I, for hours and hours last night. Now we are camped in a big tunnel that goes down the centre of the arena. I am dreading the inevitable – killing Flame.

For the moment, I'm on watch. Should I kill her now? I don't think I can…

Suddenly, the whole tunnel begins to shake. At the start of the games - on the pedestals - it was like this. Now, the quakes pulse through everything again, but faster. It's like… What does it remind me of? Oh yeah, a heartbeat. But like it's running or doing some sort of exercise.

The whole arena is shaking violently.

I go into Flame's tent to see if she's ok.

_Boom!_

The cannon goes off before I even open the tent. When I do get in, Flame's body is in shreds on the floor. My eyes widen in horror. How did I not even notice?!

Of course. Flame has no tongue, so she can't call for help.

_Couldn't call for help._

An image pops into my mind: Ajax's wrist, flooded with a blue light; and his face, contorted with pain.

Someone is killing tributes through their trackers. Who could that?

Well, it has to be District three; they are the only ones a) alive and b) smart enough. But how are they going to get access to that sort of thing?

_Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump!_

The steady beat reminds me so much of a heart…

My mind wanders. What if it actually was a heart? Then it hits me: it is! I am in a giant body! If I was taught correctly at the centre, this tunnel must be the spine, leading to the head… And the brain! Of course! The other two tributes are in the brain, controlling everything!

_Including my tracker_.

I grab a knife and rip it out.

_Boom!_

Was that my death? Surely not.

"Congratulations, District 3!" calls Claudius Templesmith over the speakers, "Now you are the finalists! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour..."

_They think I'm dead!_

Suddenly, the passage behind me begins to collapse, sending tons of earth down around me. I have no time to pack, I have to run!

**Shayli, D7 (Via Mackenzie, 17)**

I watch in horror as the boy from one sprints up the tunnels.

_No, you can't die! Run! Kill the others!_

The landslide chases him to a little way from the brain, where it suddenly stops. A shot of the arena is played. Both arms and legs have totally been cut off by the force-fields and the heart is pumping way too fast for a normal human.

The arena is malfunctioning.

Next, a shot of the District 3 pair is shown. They seem to be having awful problems with controlling the system, let alone killing each other.

Tyler is just reaching for a plug when a spark shoots out of it and rips its way down through him. He shivers twice before collapsing.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," calls Claudius as the quakes and sparks stop, "I give you the victor of the 225thHunger Games: Emeara Hyacinth!"

She stands from the floor, where she was fixing a connection.

_What?! No! She can't win! Besides, what about the boy from one?!_

Claudius seems to receive this information at the same time as Panem thinks it.

"Oh, I do apologise. No, there is another tribute left!"

Emeara looks even more bewildered and checks her screens again.

"What the…?" she whispers, "But there's no-one left!"

"Actually," Claudius says, "There is. The boy from one has removed his tracker. It turns out he is not dead. Now, may the odds be ever in your favour."

I bet the whole of the capitol is on the edge of its seat watching this.

Emeara goes back to her screens to find that she has lost control of the lower part of the arena, from the bottom of the ribcage.

_Like someone who can't control their legs. _I think of the landslide. _That's what's blocking her connection!_

Suddenly, a black-haired girl of around eighteen appears on the screen. She's in the main tunnel, probably about halfway from either of the two other tributes.

_What's she doing there?! Where'd she come from?!_

She wears the same outfit as the other tributes, but she's not from one of the districts, that's for sure; her hair has streaks of gold and silver in.

_What's a capitolite doing in the Hunger Games?_

**Mindora:**

The arena. Finally, Mindora was seeing it, but not quite in the scenario she had hoped.

Oron had been so annoyed with her previous attempts to get involved with the games, he had tried to get her arrested. However, he couldn't find her at her home, so had temporarily given up to focus on the games. When Lucius found her at the Morgue, Oron had decided that Mindora was more than a little annoying, and that she should be made an example of. Her excuse for being in the Gamemaking centre – wanting to get involved in the games and the games being her greatest passion – made him so annoyed he immediately sent her on a hovercraft to the arena.

"You," he had said, "Are the finale."

At the time, Mindora hadn't understood at all. Now, stood in the middle of a big, cold passage, Mindora thought she understood. The announcement that followed her arrival cleared any doubt from her mind.

"Tributes," called Claudius (Again), "There has been a new arrival, marking the place of your final battle. The first of you to reach it will receive a short feast which will give you strength for the fight to come. To receive this feast, however, you must first defeat the new arrival. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! :D**

**I didn't have many reviews for the last chapter. Was it something I did?**

**I would like to apologise to TARDISRose for killing Tyler, her tribute, and Klicker'andKash for killing her beloved D1 girl, Flame, and for not apologising before. Oops...**

**And the next chapter will be a lot longer than this, I promise! And it's the finale! That was quick...**

**My next story is for leven1313, who is an avid fan (She submitted 13 characters last time and would've done again if I hadn't but the ban on!). It's a Games involving her friends, basically to solve the mystery: 'Who would win if they were all in the games?' It's coming out when I've drafted it all and typed the first couple of chapters (Which won't be for a while, sorry!).**

**Leven wanted to know how many of you would read along? Review below to tell me, please. Thank you! :D**


	15. Day 10- The Finale!

**A/N: Last chapter... Enjoy, people!**

* * *

**Mindora:**

Around dawn, a boy about 17 years old appeared. He had tangled brown hair and striking blue eyes. In his right hand, he held a sword – because his left one's broken, thought Mindora, who had recognised instantly him as Zayn Cyrus from District one.

"You're the new arrival?" he asked, eyeing her up and down, "I have to defeat you?"

"Um… Yeah." Mindora had forgotten about that part of the deal. Damn. Oh well, at least she would go down at the hands of a decent-looking boy.

"Got it," he said, spinning his sword around in his hands, "What are you fighting with?"

Mindora looked down at herself. She had been offered many weapons, but had chosen a belt of knifes and a sword (She had watched enough Hunger Games to be able to use them, she thought). She raised the sword with shaking arms and began to fight him.

Her first blow missed entirely, but his didn't. Mindora yelped in pain as the blade sliced her shoulder, then again as it struck her forearm, creating a dripping red gash.

Mindora attempted to parry and block, mostly failing, and gradually became more shredded and blood-soaked.

At home, if she were watching, she would've cheered at a tribute dying like this. But there, in that tunnel, she saw the error of her past ways. This wasn't fun. She wasn't excited to be there. At home, her brother was probably in shock, not cheering her on.

All those things she expected – false. For the first time in her Games-loving life, Mindora saw how evil she had been; how sadistic. She looked into Zayn's eyes and saw the disgust that he felt towards her. Of course, the districts would hate her kind.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed. He paused.

"What?"

"For being me. I'm so sorry."

His only answer was to drive his sword into her gut.

**Zayn, D1**

I pull my sword out of her. What had she meant, 'sorry for being me'? It made no sense.

Before I can deliberate it any further, my feast appears. It comes down by parachute I various bits and pieces. I pounce on it and begin to eat.

As I finish, I think of Cali, back home in District one. Will she be impressed with me? An image of her eyes fills my head. I know exactly how they light up when she laughs, how they look at career boys with a sort of longing. She never looked at me that way. Maybe she will now. I hope she will.

_Ping! Ping! Ping!_

A parachute floats down towards me from nowhere. Inside is a thick bulletproof vest, exactly my size. It's just the edge I need. Perfect.

Whoa, whoa, hang on. When did I start thinking like that?!

"Nice present," says a voice behind me, "What'd you do to get that?"

I spin to see a knife flying towards me and only just duck. The thrower, an eighteen-year-old girl with black hair, steps out of the shadows. "Shame you won't get to use it," she sneers, throwing another knife. It ricochets off the wall and nearly impales me from behind.

I stagger to my feet, my sword raised. Due to the fact that she has a long-distance weapon – knives – I am at a disadvantage.

But then I realise she has only got one left – she can't throw it or she's defenceless. Now _I _have the edge again.

Carefully, I creep backwards to pick up the other two knives. My fingers edge across the wall, feeling for the handle of the one that stuck. _Where is it?!_ Quickly, I glance over my shoulder and grab it, then spun back.

She's gone.

She's disappeared, along with the body of that new arrival girl from the capitol.

Why with the body? Where to?

Well, I was facing the way I came, so she probably went the other way. Yeah, the way she knows.

I start after her. Halfway down the passage, I find the body of the capitolite. It's soaked in blood, abandoned at the side of the tunnel. But why?

As I ponder this, I put my vest on. At least now she can't hit me in the chest or stomach with that knife.

Or those knives! I check the capitolite's body again. She would've come with more than a sword, right? Yeah, I saw something around her waist…

Whatever she had on her, it's gone now. My opponent is probably now fully armed and headed for somewhere she knows and I don't.

I race up the tunnel after her. Soon, I reach the end – a huge cavern full of screens and buttons and levers. Of course. She's from three, she's perfectly happy in here.

_Damn._

I step forwards towards the screens and slam into a wall. No, not a wall: a force field.

_Double damn._

When I try to push my sword through, it simply bounces off. My guess is that it isn't like that the other way.

I'm totally disadvantaged.

**Shayli, D7 (Via Mackenzie)**

I watch in horror as Emeara of district three creeps up behind the boy from one. She set up the force field to distract him, nothing more.

She doesn't deserve to be so smart.

I wince as a knife lodges in the boy's shoulder, then another one between his ribs as he spins. My teeth grind together as she grabs his blood-encrusted sword from him and plunges it into his stomach…

He raises one eyebrow at her, takes his sword off her and gets up.

"What?!" she mutters.

"Bulletproof vest. Nice present, wasn't it?"

Her annoyingly pretty face twists into a scowl. Within seconds, she's through a gap in the force field, fiddling with her controls.

"I haven't got a tracker!" he yells, "You can't get me!"

She doesn't answer.

He passes through her gap in the force field and walks towards her.

"Yes…" I breathe, curling up on our tatty sofa, "Get her, get her!"

Just as he lunges to impale her, she spins and launches a knife at him. He ducks… right into the net of electricity behind him.

His screams echo across the cavern as she turns the voltage as high as it will go. I cover my eyes until they stop. Then I cover them again.

But it can't stop me from hearing Claudius Templesmith's last announcement of the games.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victor of the 225th Annual Hunger Games: Emeara Hyacinth!"

I press mute just too late.

My worst fear of the Games has come true: Emeara, killer of my best friend Shayli, gets to go home. She will live while Shayli is dead.

But, no. She won't. The other tributes failed to kill her.

So I will do it myself.

Watch your back, Emeara. I'm coming.

* * *

**A/N: That's all folks! Or is it... I'm planning an epilogue, maybe.**

**Would you like an epilogue?**

**Thank you to everyone for reading!**

**Zayn was submitted by SophieM-C and Emeara was from Imp97.**

**See you around, maybe in my next SYOT? We'll see. ;)**

**Bye!**

**-Rue**


	16. An Epilogue (Or Two)

**A/N: The first half of this is just to tie up a loose end for my long-term readers (People who have read my last story, too.), but everyone will understand what happens, don't worry. ;)**

**The second half is just to be fair and show that, from the moment you press send on that tribute form, the tribute is mine and therefore not at all safe. And it's also to be fair. Sort of. ;)**

**But, apart from that, this is the end! It has been an honour writing for you and having you as wonderful readers and I will miss you all very, very much.**

**Until next time!**

* * *

**Outside the President's Office, the Capitol**

**Just After the 225****th**** Games**

_Knock, knock!_

"Come in!" calls the voice on the other side of the door. Genisius Oronof, gamemaker-in-training, is lead into the office of the most important man he will ever meet by his father, the current head gamemaker. "Ah, Oron," says the president, "May I congratulate you on a fantastic games. What did you want?"

"I wanted to apologise," replies Oron, "for the awful mistake my son made before the games, sir. I am currently re-thinking his position as my apprentice."

"What mistake is this?" the president remarks, eyeing young Genisius carefully.

"He invited non-gamemaker personnel into the Gamemaking Centre without permission from any senior members of staff. Luckily, I sorted it, but this error cannot be made again."

"Who did he invite?"

"Mindora Gaspine."

"The 'new arrival'?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why, the crowd loved her! It was an excellent twist, Oron. Plus, I think your son has learnt his lesson." He pauses "Actually… Yes, I think that, this once, it was a good mistake. Yes."

"If you think so, sir…"

"When did you say you were going to retire, Oron?"

"Well, I'm getting old, sir. This was my last games."

"And who did you choose as your successor?"

"Lucius Walker. He has proven himself to be a very loyal worker, sir, and helped me to design that latest arena."

"Have you told him yet?"

"No, not yet, sir. I was planning on telling him at the victory tour – hand everything over then."

The President lifts the telephone on his desk and asks if Lucius Walker can be sent up to see him. After a few minutes of silence, he appears.

"Sorry it took me so long, sirs, I was dealing with the small matter of the family of the late Mindora Gaspine." Lucius bows as he talks "What was the reason for which you wanted me?"

The President replies first. "I would like to ask you if you knew that Oron Oronof here is retiring this year."

"I have heard rumours, yes, sir."

"He has said to me that he would like you to take over from him."

"He did? Oh, it would be a great honour, sir!"

"Yes. Sadly, I do not think that this will be necessary. Instead, I would like to appoint his son, Genisius, as new Head Gamemaker. What do you think?"

Lucius looks lost for words for a second, hen regains his composition.

"If you think that it is wise, sir," he says, carefully, "I can only agree."

"Good. In that case, Genisius, you shall be handed the title at the victory tour later this year. I look forward to the occasion.

Genisius rises, speechless, shakes the President's hand and is lead out of the room by his father, who is trying to look happy (for his son)as well as composed (for the President) and shocked (for Lucius).

Genisius has a good position, and may even last in that position until the next quell, if he's lucky, but I doubt he'll be speaking to Lucius as a friend for many years to come…

**The Justice Building, District 7**

**The Victory Tour of the 225****th**** Games**

_Well, this one's going to be awkward._

That's the only thought I can register as I prepare to speak to the whole of District 7. When I close my eyes, all I can see is the face of the girl from this District; her green eyes as they fill with terror; my hands as I slit her throat; her limp body on the floor as I glance back and run.

_No, not awkward: painful._

"Ok, sweetie, let's go out," coos my escort, Poppet, a large lady with a very Capitol sense of style who has been District 3's escort since before I can remember. I take a deep breath and try to suppress the urge to rip her throat out as I step out onto the stage.

My hands automatically fiddle with my dress as I walk up to the microphone.

"Um, hello, District 7," I say into it. _Oh, I hate this. I wish they'd stop looking at me like that. Oh yeah, I'm meant to be smiling, aren't I._

Just as I am about to start into my rehearsed speech, a scream erupts from the audience. I shrink back in shock and clap my hands over my ears.

Too late. Images fill my head. Memories that I know will never leave but try to forget anyway.

Suddenly, I feel hands around my neck. My eyes flick open and I'm reaching for the compartment in my metal leg in an instant. Before I can think, I have a knife in my hand and I'm fighting with the girl on top of me. Around us, all is chaos. Peacekeepers are everywhere, trying to control the frenzied crowd and rabid girl.

"You!" she screams, "You murdered Shayli! You monster! You don't deserve to live while she's dead! No! Get off me!"

In the struggle, she somehow manages to get hold of my knife, and, before I know what's going on, she drives it into my throat, which explodes with a fiery agony.

"There, you monster! Die through the throat like Shayli!"

A cannon goes off. Was it stating my death? It takes me a few seconds to realise that it was a gun, not a cannon, and that the girl has gone.

"Mackenzie!" calls an older voice, "No! Mackenz-"

_Bang!_

Another gun. I can just make out two bodies on the stage, the crowd in panic and lots of blood, no longer just my own before I have to close my eyes from the pain.

My last thought before I give up trying to breathe is that the girl who attacked me was right.

I am a monster.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, Imp97.**


End file.
